SENSORIAL JOURNEY

Three fragrances, inspired by sensorial journeys through the mystic territories of Mexico, translate into unique olfactive experiences.

JARDÍN ROSADO

I meandered along the rocky path, with no direction, no markers, on a quest to find my destination. I persevered, the burning desire to discover these legendary fields of flowers, so often reverently mentioned, pushing me forward. I could feel them there, so close that the perfume of roses and gardenias tickled my senses, beckoning me.

A rosy cloud enveloped me, reminiscent of the passionate love story which first drew me to this breathtaking country. I lost myself in the memory of a rose petal bath and the languid heat of the setting sun. Time may ebb, but the scent of that gorgeous night has left its indelible mark in my mind.

My goal was within reach, the colors of the evening light blanketed the fields, and my eyes devoured the spectacular view of the plethora of roses and peonies in countless shades of pink. I could wait no longer; I stepped into the field, lingering to caress the flowers as I passed. Once I reached its center, I reclined among the blossoms, gently lulled by the subtle fragrances as the setting sun illuminated the horizon.

HUMO MÍSTICO

After hours of wandering through the lush jungle, a village came into view. Small and robust, it was peacefully nestled next to a church. Some market stalls overflowed with bergamot and blood oranges, their vibrant colors a beacon in the falling night, others offered a myriad of spices, their perfume filling the deserted streets and weaving a spellbinding atmosphere.

The night breeze carried the faint sounds of chanting from the open windows of a colonial house. Entranced, I pushed through the heavy door, stepping onto a carpet of pine needles. Dim light emanated from a few candles scattered around the fountain and the wafting fragrance of incense and sandalwood permeated the air.

Bodies moved in unison, all eyes to the sky in an effort to become one with nature; their words transformed into a sacred language, an offering to the Gods of the forest.

HUMO MÍSTICO

After hours of wandering through the lush jungle, a village came into view. Small and robust, it was peacefully nestled next to a church. Some market stalls overflowed with bergamot and blood oranges, their vibrant colors a beacon in the falling night, others offered a myriad of spices, their perfume filling the deserted streets and weaving a spellbinding atmosphere.

The night breeze carried the faint sounds of chanting from the open windows of a colonial house. Entranced, I pushed through the heavy door, stepping onto a carpet of pine needles. Dim light emanated from a few candles scattered around the fountain and the wafting fragrance of incense and sandalwood permeated the air.

Bodies moved in unison, all eyes to the sky in an effort to become one with nature; their words transformed into a sacred language, an offering to the Gods of the forest.

NARANJA BLANCA

Following the winding roads of the village, I came upon a small pyramid on the outskirts of the bustling Sunday market. The birds sweetly chirped from their perch among the frangipani branches and the sky was a deep blue, a perfect backdrop to the precise architectural lines I could not help but stop to admire.

Impervious to all this beauty, the sun continued its journey across the sky, its warm rays awakening everything they touched. Like the sun’s rays, the orange blossoms energized their surroundings with their invigorating perfume. An orange tree grove beckoned with its voluptuous fragrance tinged with underlying subtlety.

Setting down my belongings, I slowly approached, my senses drunk on the morning dew. I basked in the sweet scent of wild vanilla vines wrapped around the centuries-old trunks of the orange trees as if intent on marrying their fragrances to create a new fruit with a light yet captivating perfume.

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